Animus Atrum Est
by Darth Trayus
Summary: Five years ago, the Dark Lord brought the wizarding world to its knees. Storming Hogwarts and killing Dumbledore in a savage strike, Voldemort had mysteriously ordered a full retreat rather than consolidate his rule while the Ministry declared themselves victorious. And now Harry races against time to thwart Voldemort's true plans before he returns to finish what he started.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

"_Avada Kedavra"_

Green light flashed and shot over the girl's head. The tree in front of her was blasted to pieces, sending her off to the side. But she did not stumble nor did she fall. She kept running because if she stopped, she would not live to see another day.

The forest stretched out before her. The evergreen trees were tall and imposing, stubbornly thwarting any light that the full moon offered. A bone-chilling howl could be heard in the distance but the girl did not pay it any mind. She was being chased by something worse than werewolves.

Celeste Desmarais was running for her life. If she survived, Celeste had no doubt that today would rank as one of the worst days in her centuries long lifespan. There was no questioning this fact. It had started out as such a nice night too.

_Jack was planning to turn in for the night. Celeste looked forward to helping him settle into bed. He had always liked a little romp after a good day's at work. Causing murder and mayhem was not an easy job, after all. And she had always been glad to give him the time of day. _

_The explosion came just as things started to heat up. The house rocked for a few seconds. Cracks formed on the ceiling. Then everything went silent. _

"FUCK!_ What now?" Jack moaned in annoyance. He bolted from the room without bothering to button his shirt, racing down the stairs. Celeste heard a gasp. After a moment of hesitation, she followed to see the damage. When she did, she could barely believe her eyes. _

_The front door had been blasted to pieces._

_This normally would not have been too strange. Jack had lived in a town called Der Gehängte, a pretty shady area, even by wizarding standards. It was home to smugglers, murderers, ex-Aurors who had been dishonorably discharged for "going too far." The more prominent members were descendants of those who fought in The Old War, the terms the locals used for Grindewald's last bid for power. When Grindewald fell, those who followed him were forced underground. One legion of dark wizards in particular came here. The seedy town was a safe haven for them. The criminal factions were always at war with one another. It was not unusual to for the inhabitants to wake up and find the streets littered with corpses from a violent skirmish the night before. Of course, such corpses will have mysteriously disappeared by noon. This lawless corner of wizarding civilization would have been hell for any auror or police force to hold. _

_Dumbledore's allies learned this lesson the hard way. Spies had tracked the wounded legion to Der Gehängte. Seeing as the town was completely undefended, the Minister of Magic ordered a task force to seize control of region. Indeed, the troops that arrived met with little resistance initially. But then, crime lords rarely attacked in broad daylight. Guerilla tactics picked off the soldiers one by one while the enemy simply hid in plain sight, weathering out the storm. After four months and casualties in the 60th percentile, the Minister was forced to order a retreat or else risk losing the entire force. The mission was scrubbed and erased from ministry records. A humiliating defeat at this point in time must not be publicized, especially since they were supposed to be the victors. _

_With the greatest opposition to the dark wizards now gone, the legion was free to do as it please. Called The Veterans by the local populace, these men and women were the cream of the crop in Grindelwald's army. A few even served as the former Dark Lord's lieutenants. Their displine and experience gave them a distinct advantage over their competitors who sought to control the area. It was not long before they secured their place as the apex predator in the magical underworld, violently casting down those who dared to challenge them. _

_And Jack made a name for himself as a bounty hunter, hunting those that might potentially threaten The Veterans. He carved out a living by being more ruthless than those he killed. And he was rewarded generously for it. That was how Celeste first met him. Her kind had always been drawn to power. And among the veterans, she found power in spades. Posing as a courtesan, she delighted in seducing both men and women. But none, however were worth binding herself too. Until she met Jack. He was a brave and relentless murderer with a body to die for. As an outsider with no blood relation to a Veteran, he would never be fully accepted into their ranks. But he did prove himself as a valuable asset to have around. As he rose in favor, his payment and rewards for his services grew more prestigious. One such reward came in the form of Celeste. One night with The Veteran's most desired whore, a position that Celeste embraced with a passion. She had found him…delectable. He would suit her purposes just fine. And so she approached him with a proposition of sorts. With the promise of unworldly pleasures and some physical persuasion, he could not have agreed fast enough._

_Of course, being with a man of that kind of reputation meant dealing the various dangers that it entailed. A bounty hunter who went after The Veterans' enemies was sure to make himself a target. _

_So when the house shook, they had merely assumed it was another pissed off customer having a go at the wards. Usually, they didn't get further than the front gate. Sometimes, they succeeded in blowing down the door before the house's protection spells violently evicted them from the premises._

_But they did not expect to see the entire front wall torn away. It was lying 20 feet away from the house, held together by lingering protective enchantments Jack had placed on it, powerful enchantments which, even as they watched, could be seen fizzling out into nothingness. Jack was furious._

"_Who's the motherfucker that did this?" Jack said through gritted teeth._

_Celeste ignored him in favor of examining the damage. She was puzzled. She had a hand in constructing the wards around the house. The magic of her kind was not so easily breached. No ordinary witch or wizard could have done this. She reached out with her senses and frowned when she felt...she didn't quite know what to make of it. _

_"Ran off, did you?" Jack said to the room. "No balls to face me in person, ya little bastard?"_

_"Hush." Celeste soothed. Were it any other woman, Jack would have slapped her for giving him an order. But that single word had carried the insidious power of her race that allowed them to lie hidden within a society that sought their deaths. Her voice was like a soft but firm caress of the most passionate of lovers. It demanded unquestioned obedience but laden with sultry undertones that promised unending bliss to those who submitted. And it continued to whisper far after she was done speaking, its effects lingering in the minds of those it touched. _

_Jack shuddered involuntarily. He looked at her in pure unadulterated lust but did little else, heeding her command like a well-trained hound._

_Celeste walked slowly and examined the wreckage. Whatever spell was cast had ripped the wall right off the building. She felt the magic that had torn the house. It was raw and unbridled power that even Muggles would have taken noticed._

Blood magic. _Celeste concluded. It was hardly a subtle thing, yet no other magic existed to generate that kind of power in so short of time. Any other ritual would have drawn far too much attention and would have likely left the caster vulnerable. Then again, if he or she had aimed to tear a dragon sized hole out of the house, subtlety was a moot point._

_Something was still amiss though. Blood magic left distinct traces of the caster's signature, or at the very least, traces whichever poor sod the blood mage had chosen to sacrifice for the spell. It was how the Ministry was so easily able to enforce its laws prohibiting its use. But every time she had tried to identify the source, it would...again words escaped her. It was likened to hearing the squeaking of a mouse behind a glass pane. Not only was the sound muffled, but it never stayed still. Celeste reached out again and her frown deepened. It was almost as if…_

_A shadow moved out of the corner of her eye. She whirled around and tried to yell out a warning. But it came a second too late._

_A sickly green light cut through the air and smashed into Jack's chest, the force of the spell sending him careening into the wall. Green flames enveloped him, snuffing out his life. He was dead before he hit the ground. _

_Celeste felt her heart being torn from her, the bond she had with her host violently severed. She threw her head back in pain, her mouth open in a silent scream. But before she had time to recover, a pale hand reached out and grabbed her by the throat. She stumbled forward only for her head to be jerked upwards. She paled in abject terror when her stare met glowing red eyes. She very nearly lost consciousness at that moment._

"_Why is it" Voldemort drawled almost lazily, "That no matter how many of you I kill, there's always one that slips my notice?" His grip tightened before flinging her ten feet across the room. She landed beside Jack's body and cried out in pain. But quickly realizing where she had fallen, she crawled over to cover her host's body…and the small crystal pendant that had started materializing out of his chest, shielding it from Voldemort's gaze._

_Seeing her clutch the body, Voldemort smiled._

"_It's no use, my dear," Voldemort said. "The Killing Curse drains a victim of his life. There is no energy residing in that body for you to feed on…no magic for you to grasp and use against me."_

_But he was wrong. There was still some life, some magic, meager as it may be. That which tied her to her chosen was millennia old, a connection that lingered even in death. A connection that was bound to the physical realm. _

_Celeste's hand tightened around just that, a small sapphire crystal. Through this crystal, she felt life through the wizards who accepted it. It was still glowing with a faint light, but dimming quickly its energy faded into the void with her host. She had to play this just right. If she tipped Voldemort off in anyway, it would all be for nothing._

_Voldemort continued. "You would do well to submit. Your struggles buy you nothing but suffering. Do you truly prefer to spend your last moments in agony? Surrender now."_

"_Never!" Celeste spat out. She was almost there. Power was slowly filling her veins. It wasn't much. But it should be enough…at least so she hoped. Either way, she had to draw out the confrontation just a little longer. _

"_No? Then perhaps you prefer to serve. Your kind requires a host to taste existence, do they not? Offer me the link which ties you to this world and pledge your…"_

"_We still remember the last girl that took you as a host. I don't see her around anymore, do I?"_

"_Nothing more than a series of unfortunate events." Voldemort replied._

"_The poor girl." Celeste continued as if uninterrupted. "We felt her emotions from across the continent. She was so sad. Considering who she was sleeping with, guess we know why." She felt the primeval magic filtering through her body as she took what the trinket had to offer. It would not be long now._

"_If you seek to provoke me, know that you are failing most admirably." Voldemort said. _

"_I, mean, it can't be easy waking up to your face every morning." Celeste said as flippantly as she could manage. "Look at you. Glow in the dark eyes. No nose. Hell, cunnilingus must been a real chore for her. You don't even have lips to eat her out properly." Almost there… _

"_I see we have a natural comedian in our midst." Voldemort smiled. "Perhaps we could find…"_

"_Or maybe she thought your cock's too small." Celeste interrupted. She needed only a few more seconds. She would only get one shot at this. She had to make it count. "Was that it? Did old Tommy boy fall short? Is little Riddle shriveled?"_

_Hearing his muggle name, the smile vanished from Voldemort's expression. His red eyes flared. Dark magic saturated the air. The shadows in the room seemed to elongate, taking on a life of their own. Celeste shivered despite herself. The Dark Lord was not amused. _

"_If it is death that you seek," Voldemort whispered quietly. "Then I shall oblige. _AVADA_…"_

_Celeste acted, throwing her hand outwards._

"Exuro_" she shouted. Violet flames erupted from her palm. She didn't wait to see if she scored a hit. Celeste ran out of the house and into the nearby woods._

Celeste didn't know how long she had been running but it felt like hours since she had first made her escape. Her thin gown offered little protection against the wintry air. Cuts and scrapes, courtesy of low-lying vegetation and shrubbery, decorated her petite form.

The girl took a risk and looked back. She couldn't see anyone but that didn't mean _he _wasn't there.

The air rippled. Celeste cursed and ducked, narrowly avoiding the spell that would have separated her head from the rest of her body. She knew that she could not keep this up. That burning curse she had thrown at Voldemort back at Jack's home had cost her what little magic she had. But casting it without a focus had come at a steep price. Her left hand, which was once a soft, creamy texture had been seared to a crisp.

_There goes my sex appeal_ Celeste thought bitterly. But her beauty was the last thing on her mind. Her injuries were superficial. She tightened her grip on the pendant that she had taken from Jack's body, holding it to her chest with her remaining hand. She would heal herself. She would go back into hiding and find another host. All she had to do was to escape her pursuer.

As if to remind her just how tall an order that thought was, the forest in front of her spontaneously combusted. It was a raging inferno that rose as tall as the trees in the area, eagerly seeking fuel to burn. Trees, dead leaves, small panicked mammals…all were consumed in a moment's notice. For a split second, the flames cast the environment in a blazing orange glow.

The flames vanished just as suddenly as they appeared. Celeste would have thought she had imagined the entire thing had not the aftermath of the spell been so apparent.

_Flash Fire_ thought Celeste. The wizarding world's solution to controlling Fiendfyre. Not quite as powerful but no less potent to those caught in it. Another one of her kind's famed _gifts_ to their magical hosts.

A sharp pain raced up her leg. Celeste hissed and glanced down to see that fire had not missed her completely. A few flickers had gotten close enough to burn off a nasty bit of skin. Not life threatening, but it would take weeks to heal at the very least.

On the bright side, the fire had cleared away quite a bit of the forest. Celeste saw light further up ahead where the trees thinned out. Moonlight streamed through the thick canopy. Even the air felt lighter. Observing this, she started to limp her way as fast as possible towards. For the first time that night, Celeste felt a bit of hope.

No sooner had those treacherous thoughts run across her mind, Voldemort sought to prove her wrong. The ground exploded beneath her. She experienced a brief feeling of weightless freedom. She knew it would not last though. She clenched her eyes shut in anticipation for the inevitable impact. What she did not expect, was for a cold yet firm tentacle to wrap itself around her ankle. Before she could look to see what it was, it yanked her down ferociously. Celeste crashed into the ground with frightening speed. But she didn't stop there. Her body continued to tumble and bounce, carried forward by momentum. After a full minute, she slid to a halt.

She groaned painfully and reluctantly opened her eyes. A sea of stars twinkling in the night sky greeted her. She briefly identified a bright cluster of them as a constellation before forcing herself to move. The explosion had done her the benefit of carrying her straight out of the forest and into a clearing. This was good.

However, once she took stock of her new surroundings, her heart sunk.

She was standing on the edge of a foreboding cliff. The dark waves crashed violently against the sharp rocks below. There was a thick layer of sea foam at the point of impact.

She would not survive the fall. Not by a long shot.

Celeste turned quickly back towards the forest but stopped short.

Voldemort stood calmly between her and her escape, twirling his wand casually. He tilted his head upwards gazing at the dark blue sky.

"A rather beautiful night, no?" Voldemort whispered. Celeste had no clue how his voice carried above the roaring ocean behind her but it scared her out of her wits. She would have preferred it if he yelled…preferred it if he screamed, threw curses, anything but stand there like nothing was wrong. She had dealt with her share of inebriated and raging men. But cool, collected and almost flippant manner that Voldemort seemed to treat the situation unnerved her.

"See that constellation?" He continued. "That is Orion, the Hunter. Ancient legends maintain that he hunted all the beasts on Earth to claim his place among the gods. And never once did he fail. I find it a rather auspicious sign to see on this night, don't you?"

"Shut up, damn it!" Celeste shouted hoarsely. "Fuck the mind games and fuck you!"

Silence filled the air briefly. Voldemort turned and considered her, his expression unreadable. For a moment, Celeste wondered if her life was about to end there and then.

"Even at death's door, you remain defiant." Voldemort said with a hint of approval. "But you fight inevitability, Celeste. You are a dying breed. There is no denying that fact. The winds of change have swept away the old and obsolete and your species along with them. Only the strong survive to shape the world as they deem fit."

"Save it for someone who gives a fuck Riddle." Celeste snarled. "There's no way in hell I'm bonding with you so you might as well kill me and get it over with."

"And what would killing you gain me?" Voldemort asked. "It is true that you can be a threat but only if you find a wizard capable enough in the first place. And as tonight has proven, they are few and far between. And of those that do exist, do you truly believe the likes of Dumbledore would ever turn to creatures like yourself for power?

"No, killing you is a waste and that is only a last resort. There is so much more to be gained. I know that the death of your host pains you still. But I can change that. I can help. I have more than enough power to last you ten lifetimes. I can protect you. Together, we will show the Ministry the error of their ways…of labeling such potential as a _dark_. Together, we will avenge the ancient genocide of your people. Give me that pendant you so desperately are hiding from me and I will give you and the others my protection."

Celeste hesitated. He could not possibly know about the others. They had been careful to cover their tracks. Voldemort sensed it immediately and latched on to it.

"Yes, Celeste." Voldemort said patronizingly. "I know of the others you hide. They, too, resisted and they have paid the price for it."

"Liar!"

"No? Then the late U.S. senator from Nevada died by herself, did she? I suppose it's possible her death could have been a suicide. It was certainly ruled as such. Or Giselle and Imelda, the well received and high-paid courtesans based in Amsterdam? Aurors announced that they had died at the hands of a rather jealous lover. Or how about Tess Eloise, the pornography actress? I admit she indeed provided me endless entertainment in the final moments of her life so I suppose it was a well chosen profession..."

Celeste closed her eyes as Voldemort continued to list off the names of her sisters. They had been betrayed. Someone inside their little circle sold them out to this bastard. There was no other way they could have been found otherwise. And Voldemort had picked them off one by one. He probably did it himself. He would not trust another to the task.

"Give me the stone, Celeste." Voldemort encouraged softly.

A single tear traced down her cheek. It was so tempting to accept. It would be so easy just to accept the man before her as a new host. All she had to do was give him the crystal. She bit her lip and said a silent prayer. She hoped she would be forgiven for what she was about to do. She lifted her hand and let the pendant dangle in front of her eyes.

Voldemort's lips curved upwards into a smirk, his red eyes glinting in triumph. Fixing his gaze on his prize, he reached out slowly as if savoring the moment. But before he could summon it, Celeste smashed it into the ground, shattering it into thousands of glittering fragments. A bright violet beam shot into the sky, illuminating the land for miles around. The light grew in brilliance and began reshaping itself. It took the form of a large dove before flying off, disappearing into the night.

The Dark Lord's expression shifted from horror, to outrage, to cold fury in an instant before settling into a blank expression.

Celeste knew he would never have kept his promise. He had been slaughtering her kind like animals ever since he found out they had survived the Great Genocide. He would never allow a potential threat, no matter how small, to live unchallenged. No, she was dead the moment Voldemort had tracked her down to Jack's home.

"So be it." Voldemort said with cold certainty. She smiled mockingly in response at the man in front of her knowing that she had both denied him and warned her sisters of the lurking danger in one single act.

She watched Voldemort whisper the curse that would kill her. Flickers energy gathered at the tip of his wand before ejaculating in a torrent of green.

Celeste gazed in wonder at the night sky as the curse took her. The smile never left her face.

* * *

**Disclaimer: Credit for Harry Potter goes to JKR**

**A/N: This chapter is a beta to get a feel for people's tastes and will be edited and added to as time goes by or as I see fit. There isn't a planned plot at this stage yet, just a lot of ideas floating around. That said, once I'm done revising and rewriting this prologue, I'll get started on the actual storyline. For now though, enjoy this little snippet.**

**EDIT May 25th, 2012: The chapter has been expanded and a few grammatical errors have been corrected. **

**EDIT May 28, 2012: This chapter has been edited yet again for my own purposes. The prologue is almost done. Just to let you know, Chapter One is well underway for any who are interested and will be considerably longer. **

**Reviews and constructive criticisms are welcome. **


	2. Chapter 1: Something's Amiss

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

**Something's Amiss  
**

"_You have to hand it to the Ministry," Fred Weasley spat. "Which fucking moron forgot to check in with the weatherman before planning this?"_

_Lightning streaked overhead, illuminating Hogwarts for a split second. The torrential rain and winds whipped back and forth, mercilessly tearing into the combatants below. Fred peeked out from behind cover only to duck hastily back down, barely dodging a yellow flash of light that left a trail of steam as it cut through the rain. Fred winced when he heard the blood-curling screams of the poor bugger that was hit in his place._

"_Cut the chatter, Weasley," said the voice of Head Auror Robards. "You're being shot at in the middle of the single most important battle in the history of our time and you're still a wise-crack."_

_Fred took the small charm around his neck and pressed it to his lips. _

"_Marco!" Fred shouted in false-cheer. "Polo here was worried you kicked the bucket while we were playing tag with the Death Eaters. Where the hell is our backup?" _

"_We ran into an ambush. We're being held up at Hogsmeade. Dolohov's got a full battalion blocking the path up to the school. We can't push past them any time soon. You're going to have to hold out for at least another hour."_

_Fred cursed under his breath. The assault was supposed to be simple. Phase one: a strike team of Aurors would draw enemy fire in the front lines down on the ground. Phase two: Hit Wizards on brooms, Phoenix team, would harass Death Eaters trying to rain curses down from above in castle's towers. Phase three: while Voldemort's forces were distracted, Robards would lead a Disillusioned legion to the front door of the school, carrying high-grade experimental explosives from the Department of Mysteries and blow it wide open. Naturally, the plan got as far as Phase one. The Ministry's air force got their asses handed to them as soon as they arrived. The freak storm kicked up moments after Phoenix fired their first curses down at Hogwarts. Rain was coming down by the gallon and Impervious Charms barely lasted a minute against the onslaught. Convenient…for the Death Eaters. Either God got off on screwing with them or Voldemort decided to take His place for the day. Fred bet on the latter._

"_Can't do another hour." Fred replied heatedly. "We'll be lucky if we last even half that time. We have to get inside the castle and out of this storm. None of my men can cast properly if we can't see what we're shooting."_

"_Shit." Robards cursed. "Phoenix One, do you copy?"_

"_This is Phoenix One, over." A male voice replied from the charm. _

"_You were listening?" Robards asked._

"_Naturally," came the easy reply._

"_After this, we're going to have a little chat about protocol concerning eavesdropping, Potter." Robards said irritably. _

"_Considering I'm one of three people hooked up to this channel, I felt entitled to listen in to the conversation between the other two. I'm very insecure about being left out, you know." Harry replied mildly. _

"_Never mind that dammit. We need you to divert a small force back to us to pick up the ordinance."_

"_You mean the bombs?" Harry asked lightly. _

"_Yes, Potter. The bombs," Robards said. Harry could feel the man rolling his eyes._

"_You mean the bombs I'm carrying with me right now?" Harry smirked._

_Robards swore. Garbled yelling could be heard in the background. No doubt it was Robards cursing out his team for letting something so valuable be taken unnoticed. Harry felt a small sliver of guilt. It honestly was not their fault. Had he been an ordinary Death Eater spy, he had no doubt Robard's Aurors would have caught and killed him in an instant. But then, Harry Potter was not a Death Eater. He was, however, an infiltrator, an operative, and a prankster all rolled into one. Marauder blood ran in his veins. He once stole Mad-Eye Moody's magic eyeball right from its socket. And it took Alastor almost an hour after he woke up the next morning to realize why his vision was off. Harry smiled fondly. Prongs would be proud. Fred's voice, though not directed at him, shook Harry out of his thoughts._

"_Hello….Marco?" Fred said. "Polo getting shot at here. Really not the time to rant. What's your ETA, Harry?"_

"_I'm already here." Harry replied._

_Fred spun around and found one Harry Potter crouched low with a mountain of a backpack strapped over his shoulders. _

"_Where the hell have you been all my life?" Fred said in a relieved voice. _

"_The same place I've been for the past ten minutes." Harry shrugged. _

_Fred stared._

"_Seriously?" Fred said disbelievingly. _

"_No, but it still doesn't change the fact that if I were a Death Eater, you would be dead." Harry smiled teasingly. _

"_If you shout Constant Vigilance at me again, I'm blowing those bombs on your back." Fred threatened. "One Mad-Eye is bad enough."_

_Another explosion interrupted Harry's reply, rocking the earth. Harry glanced around warily. _

"_That one…sounded a bit closer. We should probably go." Harry tilted his head to the side. "Do you hear that?" Whatever snarky reply Fred had in mind went out the window when a half-moan, half-growl interrupted him. _

"_Get down!" Fred did not need to be asked twice. "EXURO!" Demonic flames burst from the tip of Harry's wand accompanied moments later by an unearthly screech. _

"_Time to go!" Harry said urgently. He pulled Fred up by the arm and started dragging him up the slopes towards the castle._

"_Inferi?!" Fred exclaimed. "No, forget about that! Fiendfyre, Potter? Overkill much?"_

"_If it had been only one…yes," Harry said. "But that didn't look like just one, did it?" And sure enough, when Fred glanced back, there were no less than five mounds of barbequed flesh. _

"_You could have…Aegis...killed me, you bastard!" Fred yelled as he deflected an oncoming curse. _

"_Well you look pretty good for a dead man so put a sock in it!" Harry said sarcastically. Fred fumed at him for a moment before directing his attention back on the fight. Truth be told, a simple "Incendio" would have sufficed but three years of open warfare had taught Harry not to leave anything to chance. He sure as hell was not going to start now. Besides, he was rather fond of fiendfyre. It sent the right kind of message. _

_The two wizards forged ahead. The battle was uphill from there–the Death Eaters had both height and cover, taking potshots at the duo at every opportunity. Fred and Harry took turns keeping a deflection spell in place. The occasional Killing Curse that headed their way required some creativity on their part but nothing too straining. And then there were the Inferi that some lowlifes had decided to reanimate from the growing pile of corpses. Harry was certain he recognized both Order members and Death Eaters among their ranks, stumbling slowly but surely after them. Harry had briefly considered mirroring his enemies' tactics before quickly discarding. The reanimation process would drain him too much–and right now, he needed everything he had to reach the doors to the Entrance Hall. _

"_Hey look up ahead. You see the light yet?" Fred said smugly._

_Harry followed Fred's gaze and just made out the top of the double doors of the castle. They were almost there._

_They briefly exchanged glances before charging up the slope screaming for blood. Harry slung spells left and right. Stunning. Disarming. Severing. Torturing. Killing. Each spell darker than the last. At this point, Harry didn't care. The end was in sight. _

"_Crucio!" A masked assailant casted. Harry batted it aside like a fly before countering with his own. _

"_Sepelio!" The man threw up a hasty shield. The curse hit with crushing force, shattering the shield in an instant and continuing on to its target. He didn't have a chance to scream before his heart was blown straight out his back. _

_Harry turned back to Fred who was barely holding off four attackers. Harry reached into his pocket and unsheathed a jeweled embedded dagger. He tapped it lightly with his wand, activating the runes engraved on the blade, and threw it towards the left most Death Eater. _

_As if sensing his imminent death, the target turned around just in time for the blade to sail straight between his eyes and out the back of his head. He was dead before his body hit the ground._

_His companions whipped around in Harry direction, giving Fred a much needed reprieve but more importantly, turning their backs on the enchanted dagger that killed their comrade. _

_Harry smirked before flicking his wand toward the Death Eater that looked slightly overweight. The dagger did an about face and flew into his spinal column with a sickening crack. Harry followed up with a quick yanking motion and smiled grimly when the dagger emerged from the man's abdomen and headed back towards its master. _

_He did not wait to retrieve it though. With another jab, the dagger changed direction once more to seek out the remaining two survivors. _

"_AEGIS!" The two Death Eaters shouted in unison. A blinding yellow dome encased the two on all sides. Harry was mildly impressed. Synchronized casting was not a feat that he had expected from Voldemort's cronies. It required training and a high level of trust in the other person's abilities. Until now, Harry was damn sure all Death Eaters were selfish, power-hungry bastards that was more likely to stab the next guy in the back for the Dark Lord's favor than to work on covering each other's ass. _

_But it would not save them today. _

_As the dagger reached the overcharged shield, Harry twisted his wand violently. The dagger exploded–the wave of light and heat comparable to a star going nova. Desperate screams could be heard before the roar of the fires drowned them out. The atmosphere was stifling and Harry struggled to breathe. _

_After a long moment, the light cleared and the flames dissipated, Harry took a moment to catch his breath, almost afraid to look at what remained of his opponents. _

_It was not a pretty sight. Their outer skin was charred to a crisp but the flesh underneath it was still a sickening pinkish red. The bodies were in the throes of a terrible seizure while their heads still jerked in an upwards motion, as if gasping for air. _

_Harry grimaced. What a horrible way to die._

"_Fred! Get your sorry ass over here. I can't arm this bomb myself." Harry forced himself to the wooden doors. He started unloading the high-grade explosives. He felt the doors next to him humming with unseen power from the wards that kept them sealed–wards that Voldemort himself cast. _

"_Nice job back there, Harry," Fred said, as started fiddling with the bombs. "Whatever you did, the Inferi are staying far away from us. Don't know how long it'll last though."_

"_A while longer if we're lucky," Harry said. "Blast radius is 100 meters, give or take and we don't want to be anywhere near this thing when it blows. Brooms will probably be faster."_

"_No can do." Fred said glibly. "Our brooms got caught in that blast. That little trick of yours was neat, but it probably wasn't your best idea."_

"_Damn it," Harry cursed. "Look like we're walking. You better be up for a good sprint, Weasley." _

"_Roger that," Fred replied. He glanced down at the bomb. "You sure this thing is going to work? Not that I have anything against Muggles but I thought their gadgets don't mix well with magic."_

"_Kind of late to be having doubts, Weasley."_

"_Alright, don't need to get antsy. But it's a valid question. What if the thing doesn't go off?"_

"_It's the latest stuff from the Department of Mysteries. Trust me. You learn not to question Unspeakables. If they said it's good enough, then I'm not arguing. Besides, Dumbledore said he's tested them."_

"_Tested them? Do I even want to know just _what_ Dumbledore tested them on?" Fred asked incredulously._

_Harry looked at him blankly._

"_Alright, alright. Classified info and all that shit. I get it." Fred sighed. "Okay, that's the last of them. Let's get out of here." Harry nodded._

"_We'll regroup with the others and see how Robards is doing on his end," Harry said, jogging back down the path. "Chances are we will have to–"_

_He didn't get the chance to finish as his scar burst open. _

"_FUCK!" Harry exclaimed, falling to his knees in blinding pain. It felt like his head had been cleaved in two. The thought was not comforting. _

"_HARRY!" _

"_Aagh..." Harry writhed in agony. It was more intense than the Cruciatus Curse. Thousands of white hot needles stabbed into his head, eagerly trying to get in. Harry tried to fight them but the attack was too sudden. He was overwhelmed in seconds. And then the pain lessened, slowly giving way to a cold, dark numbness. For a strange moment, he felt nothing. And then…there was amusement._

**Harry.**

_A voice– like a serpent slithering in the crevices of his mind– hissed into his thoughts. The voice laughed._

**You should have told me you were coming, Harry.**

_Something was wrong. Harry tried to think properly but his mind moved at a snail's pace. He made to move but his body did not listen. _

_There was something he needed to do. Something important. Harry forced himself to focus but for whatever reason, he couldn't make the connection. It was like he had been drugged. His senses were dulled, his thoughts muddled. _

**I'm afraid that I've been a most ungracious host.**

_That voice. He knew that voice. Harry tried to block it out but it was of no use. It came from everywhere yet nowhere at the same time. The serpent wrapped itself around his mind, tightening its old._

**Had I known, I would have prepared a warmer welcome.**

_Harry felt himself being physically pulled along. Someone was calling his name. There was someone trying to get his attention, telling him to run. Telling him to move._

**Alas, you are here now.**

_He tried to reply but words did not come to him. He tried to struggle, pulling against the phantom bonds in his mind. But the serpent did not relent. It tightened its hold, unyielding in its grip. The snake cackled mockingly._

**Ah, Harry. Always the fighter.**

_He felt something running down his forehead. Was it raining? _

**Such fire, such spirit, even now… in the face of death.**

_Harry felt trapped. He could not think. He could not speak. He could not move. The feeling was surreal._

**Perhaps you are my equal, after all.**

_He still heard his name being called. But whoever it was seemed so far away._

**Allow me the honor, Harry Potter, to greet you in person.**

_The serpent suddenly retreated. The fog lifted and Harry's mind started to clear. He was running. Running with Fred. Why was he running again? He looked at Fred who was a few feet ahead of him. He was looking back, his expression wild. What was wrong? Fred screamed at him._

"_HARRY!"_

_And then flames swallowed him whole. _

* * *

Harry awoke with a start. He looked around frantically for a moment before settling back into his bed in relief. It was the fourth time this week he had woken up in a cold sweat. The fourth time his mind wandered back to that night in the past five days. The fourth time…in five years.

Harry sighed. There was little point in trying to understand why. If he was suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder, then it was making a very late appearance. Harry doubted it though. That last battle was a long time ago and he had come to terms with all the people he lost. Harry glanced at a picture of Ginny.

Maybe not all of them, Harry thought sadly. He still had her engagement ring on the nightstand. The ring was a band made of platinum with a simple diamond protruding out. Words were magically engraved, both inside and out of the ring.

_Diamonds are precious. But you are priceless. ~HP_

Harry smiled slightly. It was not his idea. In fact, he had no say in the matter. The Weasley twins took it upon themselves to nick it from his room in the middle of the night and had it engraved by morning.

He thought it was cheesy.

They thought it was hilarious.

She thought it was romantic.

Harry shook his head. The past was just that. There was no use digging at old wounds. He looked out his window.

Night was falling. The last rays of sun could still be seen off in the distance, casting the sky in a crimson-orange glow. A cool breeze swayed the deciduous trees off in the distance. The first inklings of spring dotted the countryside. Great swaths of vegetation began to make themselves known, slowly conquering the beautiful mountainous regions that overlooked the village of Hogsmeade. Bluebell blossoms heralded the beginning of a magnificent season. Birds could be seen flying north in the background, returning to their home after months in the warmer climate down south. It made for a picturesque sight.

Yet the scene was far from perfect. The work of art that belonged to spring was stained. Grotesque scars marred the otherwise handsome landscape. The great mountains that dominated the horizon bore deep wounds. Some even looked to be decapitated, as if the heavens had personally carved off the top of the once proud peaks. Vegetation that had once covered the roadside of paths leading to the Wizarding village existed only in disparate patches. Nature would eventually reclaim the land in its entirety. For now though, the Battle of Hogwarts had left its mark.

But hope for new life was abundant. Wizards and witches bustled about the streets of Hogsmeade after a hard day of work. Most of the residents that called the village home were retreating back into their houses, some of which were only just rebuilt in the last few weeks.

Harry sighed again and tried to rub the sleep from his eyes. He was almost a bona fide vampire these days with all the night shifts he was pulling. He stood up trying to shake off the grogginess from his eyes. It was going to be a long night.

As if hearing his thoughts, his fireplace roared to life. The flames turned green and parted to reveal a gray haired man, with a stern expression. Robards, Harry thought with disdain.

The man gave Harry a once over.

"Did I catch you at a good time, Potter, or do you want a bit more beauty sleep?" Robards asked rhetorically. "Nevermind, we need you down here ASAP. We got a crime scene to investigate."

"Already?" Harry sighed. It was much too early for this.

"I'm sorry, Potter. I'll be sure to pass the memo onto the criminal underworld to arrange their schedule around your convenience," Robards snarled.

"Fine!" Harry spat out. "Just give me the address."

"Number 15, Diagon Alley. You got 15 minutes. Move it." The emerald flames enveloped Robards' head before retreating, leaving no trace there ever anyone there. Harry glared at the spot where Robards had been

"Aye aye, sir." It was going to be a long night.

* * *

"Well this is a downright mess." Robards turned towards the newcomer.

"Nice of you to join us, Potter," Robards replied. He looked over at Harry and raised an eyebrow. "You look like shit."

"Don't push it, Robards. I had a rough night."

"Your night has only just started, smart ass." Robards sneered. Harry ignored him and looked around. The blood splatter on the wall caught his eye.

"You know, it's actually really hard to get blood to spurt like that" Harry commented lightly. He glanced around the room.

The house was decorated in old Victorian splendor. The living room was filled to the brim with excessive ornamentation. The walls were painted in a deep forest green that would have given it a rich saturation when the sun rose every morning. The fireplace was still burning brightly. It was shame. Were it not for the dead body and the blood stains, even the Malfoys would have approved of the place.

"It's a solid streak of red." Robards said. It was an anomaly to be sure. Most spells that cause physical damage would have killed from the sheer force. A solid Bombarda and point blank range could have blown a hole clean through the victim's chest. But even then, the blood should have left a fairly circular mark, nothing more than splash…a rather large splash to be sure but still a splash. But to have a solid streak of red that seemed to have hit the wall at an upwards angle...

Harry knelt down at the body. The victim was male, in his early forties. His neck was bent at an odd angle. Blood was still pooling out near his collarbone.

"I'm guessing blood magic," Harry said at last. "Whatever spell that hit him forced the blood up his body and out his neck. A strange way of killing someone but no less effective."

"It could have been a vampire," someone suggested. Harry glanced at the brown haired that spoke. He didn't recognize him.

Probably a new recruit, Harry thought.

"I doubt it." Robards replied. "It's too sloppy. Most vampires make a clean bite and drain the victim. If anything, there would be less blood."

Harry knelt down and turned the corpse to the side.

"No other wounds or evidence of spells. No signs of struggle, magical or otherwise. He died quickly, though not cleanly," Harry said thoughtfully. He took another look before seeing something clenched in the man's fist.

Harry carefully eased the man's hand open and pried the trinket from his grasp.

"What you got there?" Robards asked curiously.

"Not sure." Harry replied. It was a small gold locket with fine lines that curved outwards from the center, where a small, unassuming diamond was embedded. It was a neat trinket but otherwise unimpressive.

"Doesn't look like much," Robards concluded.

"It's a locket. There might be a picture inside, family maybe or someone who should probably know he's dead.

"It's locked though. Want to do the honors or should I?" Harry asked grimly. It was an unspoken rule among Aurors that in a murder case, the first person who found the next of kin had the _privilege_ of informing them of their relative's untimely death. Unsurprisingly, it wasn't a task many were eager to do.

"For Merlin's sake, Potter." Robards sighed. He pulled out his wand and aimed it at the locket.

"_Alohomora,_" Robards intoned. There was an audible click. Neither man moved to open it.

"Let's just get this over with," Harry said. He flicked it open and regretted it in an instant.

An unearthly shriek filled the air. Harry only had a split second to see the picture inside before he felt his eardrums burst and crumpled on the floor with both hands on his ears. Robards wasn't faring any better. He, too, was on the ground, his face scrunched up in pain.

The screaming seemed to last a lifetime, though in reality, it could not have been more than a few seconds.

Then as suddenly as it came, the screech stopped.

"Wow…that hurt." Harry groaned. He took a moment to get his bearings before slowly getting up. He cautiously uncovered his ears, just in case the noise started up again. His hands came away with blood. He groaned again.

_Just my luck,_ Harry thought.

One look around the room told Harry just how powerful that was. The shockwave had shattered the windows, though it didn't stop there. Just about everything that was made of glass, porcelain or anything that could be even remotely labeled fragile was in pieces. It was some small miracle the shards didn't fly in his direction.

Looking around, the others weren't so lucky.

The forensic team that had accompanied him seemed to have gotten the worst of it. One poor bloke had glasses on when the thing went off. Harry winced in sympathy.

"What the bloody hell was that?" Robards hissed. He made an attempt to get up before thinking it might not be the best idea. "Where'd that damn thing go, Potter?"

Harry didn't have to look far. The locket had snapped shut and was now lying innocently on floor. He picked it up gingerly.

"Guess we won't be trying that again," Harry said wryly. "On the bright side, we have a lead."

"Aside from getting my ears blown out, I don't see how that counted as a lead," Robards said gruffly. "Unless you're suggesting that as a murder weapon. All things considered, I'd say that's most likely."

"No way in hell," Harry said.

Robards raised an eyebrow. "And why not?"

"Because we're still alive," Harry replied. "I meant I know where my next stop for info is."

"How's that?"

"The picture inside the locket," Harry said grimly. "It's a moving portrait of a mermaid."

* * *

The Hogshead Tavern was teeming with life and festivities. When the Three Broomsticks was burned to the ground many years prior, Aberforth's establishment became the only reliable source of liquor in the vicinity. With renewed business and an outpouring of new customers seeking to drown their sorrows during the war, Aberforth had more than enough revenue to revamp the place.

The motley rundown bar had since come a long way. It was no longer the dingy pub at the corner of civilization with a few scattered patrons. The building's exterior stood unchanged save for a few extra scars from stray spells. As such, an onlooker would be rather surprised to find the luxurious accommodations that existed within that the locals have become accustomed to as of late.

The walls were painted in a deep shade of red with wizarding photos lined neatly around the room. Candles were placed at the center of every circular table, illuminating the interior giving the place a warm glow. Two years ago, Hogshead would have been a sorry place to bring a date. Today, there was no place more romantic in Wizarding Britain.

The bar stood against the back wall in a semi-circle. Sitting there was a jubilant crowd that laughed merrily.

"To us!" a man exclaimed. "To another day of back-breaking work and for a better tomorrow!"

"TO US!" cheered the crowd and everyone began working on their third bottle of Fire whiskey for the night. The reconstruction was a slow undertaking. Even though it had nearly been two years since the last battle of the war, a large part of Hogsmeade still laid in ruins. The village was a safe haven for the magical community for the past millennium. Originally founded to shelter wizards and witches from muggle persecution, the little town had become a symbol of wizarding achievement. So even though a majority of the picturesque little village of thatched cottages and shops now looked like the apocalypse had come early, its citizens were still proud to call it home and spent every day of the past two years rebuilding it. And every night, they would come to Aberforth's tavern to celebrate.

Harry considered the scene silently. He looked decidedly out of place in his red Auror uniform. He walked up to the bar and signaled the old grumpy man.

"Back again, Potter?" The man asked.

"Ab," Harry said curtly. "I need to get to Hogwarts. Auror business."

"Ain't it always?" Aberforth replied. "Any particular reason why you couldn't use the front gate?"

"I'd rather not deal with Filch. He is getting senile and is apparently under the impression that I'm still a student.

"Besides, I'd rather not have people knowing that I paid a visit to Hogwarts in the middle of the night. The Prophet has, on more than one occasion, spun scandals about me. If word gets out I came to a school filled with under-aged witches at this hour… wouldn't want people to think I'm taking advantage of my fame."

Aberforth chuckled softly.

He led Harry to the back room where a familiar portrait of a blond girl smiled at them as they approached. Ariana. The last Dumbledore sibling.

"You know what to do," Aberforth said. Ariana's smile widened, her eyes bright as her portrait swung forward. For passing moment, Harry could have sworn he saw them twinkle.

Harry stepped through the doorway.

"Wait," Aberforth said. Harry stopped and turned. Aberforth reached into his pocket and took out a small book, bound in leather and offered it to him. A small patch of the front cover had been roughly cut out such that the cover page was visible. Harry looked closer. A picture of two young men, teenagers, smiled back at him. In front of them stood a much younger and shorter girl who kept glancing at the two older men, as if looking for reassurance, before turning shyly back at Harry.

"Send my regards," Aberforth said quietly. Harry nodded and walked off into the passageway.

The tunnel was quite narrow at first. Harry found that he had to crouch to avoid the hanging stalagmites. He silently hoped none of them would break off and impale him. Fortunately, it wasn't long before the passage widened, giving him both room to move about and air to breathe. He saw light at the end of the tunnel and unconsciously quickened his pace. As he stepped out, he came upon a familiar setting: The Room of Requirement.

A modest coffee table sat at the center with matching chairs flanking either side. A tabby brown cat had perched itself atop the table with its back to him. It looked expectantly at the door on the other side of the room.

"Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall," Harry greeted. Whirling around with impressive speed, the cat leapt off the table and changed in mid-air to reveal an elderly woman with a stern countenance. She narrowed her eyes.

"After seven years as my student, you still have not managed to grasp the concept of proper manners," McGonagall said sternly. "Had I not been expecting you, I would have severed your head from your body in an instant."

Harry let out a light chortle. McGonagall merely frowned. A few years back and the young man before her would have been roaring with laughter and assured her that he would have been skilled enough to avoid decapitation. One war later and that seemed like a lifetime away.

"Good evening, Professor," Harry said with a smile.

McGonagall stared at him for a long moment before sighing.

"Good evening, Harry," McGonagall said, her expression softening. She turned and walked briskly.

"Sorry for waking you at this hour, Professor," Harry said. "If I thought this could have waited–

"Spare me, Harry," McGonagall sighed. "I run the only magical boarding school in all of Britain. I've come to expect waking at odd hours. A castle filled with adolescent children with all manner of problems– and I'm usually the first person they come crying to. That said, I had rather hoped they would grow out of that by the time they graduate."

She gave Harry a pointed look. Harry blushed.

"I don't think I would ever outgrow Hogwarts." Harry explained. "It's my home. I ate and slept here. I loved and lost here. Hell, I almost died here. I don't think I'll ever stop coming back here…"

_The nightmares make sure of that_, Harry thought wryly. McGonagall looked at him sharply.

"You're still having dreams of the battle?" McGonagall said sternly. Harry winced.

"I said that out loud?" She narrowed her eyes. He sighed. "Only a few times. I can count them all on one hand. It's isn't that bad, Professor. Honest!" He didn't mention that all of them were in the past week.

"Post-Traumatic Stress, Potter. Look it up. There's a reason why Aurors are given debriefings after missions, Harry." McGonagall said as they turned a corner. "A debriefing that, if memory serves, you never took part in."

"I didn't need it," Harry said defensively. At this, McGonagall scoffed.

"Of course, they never do." McGonagall said sardonically. They stopped in front of the gargoyle.

"_Für das größere Wohl,_" McGonagall spoke harshly. Harry's eyebrows shot up.

"For the greater good?" Harry asked incredulously. "Have you started plotting against Muggles too, Professor?" Harry smirked.

McGonagall let out a light chuckle.

"The whole point of a password is so that it _isn't_ conspicuous." McGonagall said. "At any rate, I think Albus would have approved."

Harry nodded. Dumbledore was a kind man and a wonky old fart. He was both a mentor and a friend and there was no one Harry would trust more with the safety of his friends. But he was also the man that struck fear into the hearts of not one, but two Dark Lords across the time span of a century. He didn't do that by sucking on lemon drops every day of the year. If winning the war meant that a couple bystanders had to die, then so be it. If saving millions meant

Dumbledore had more than done his duty, given more than any man to a cause that many would have considered hopeless. He had earned his rest after defending the Wizarding World in life. No one had the right to ask anymore of him.

And so Harry felt more than a tad guilty that he would have to be asking.

McGonagall led the way and opened the door. The Headmaster's office looked relatively unchanged. The first thing that caught Harry's eye was a glass cabinet. In it, he saw all the odd little trinkets that had decorated the room when Dumbledore was still alive. There was no doubt in Harry's mind that they were but a handful of the many experiments the man had toyed with in his lifetime.

The portraits of the past Headmasters and Headmistresses around the office greeted him courteously. But there was only one in particular Harry sought out.

"Back again, Harry?" Dumbledore smiled warmly. His blue eyes twinkled at Harry through half-moon spectacles. Harry felt a slight sense of nostalgia.

"I'm going to need your help, Professor." Harry said.

* * *

The water was cold. There was no other way to describe it. Even after taking gilli-weed, Harry's entire body still felt numb. This was a part of the lake where the sun's rays would never touch.

After the Tri-Wizard Tournament, he had sworn he would never come back here. Harry sighed. Never say never.

He had been swimming around for over an hour and he was on his second dose of gilli-weed. Harry didn't remember it taking this long to find the mermaid village the first time around.

He glanced down at the miniature portrait of Dumbledore. After much protest from McGonagall and the other portraits, he was allowed to remove his old mentor from the Headmaster's office and shrink it down to a more portable size. Though Dumbledore didn't seem to mind, Harry had no doubt it was an indignity that no other previous headmaster had to suffer.

That said, Harry had no other option. Mermish was most definitely _not_ in his vocabulary and he knew of no other wizard alive who spoke the language. He was just plain fortunate that the ones at the Tri-wizard tournament understood enough of what was happening not to make him into a shish-kebab.

And so here he was: at the bottom of the Great Lake. Harry briefly wondered why Dumbledore didn't know the location of the village.

"They move around, Harry," Dumbledore said as if reading his mind. Harry looked at him in question. "The merpeople migrate depending on the season and resources and they do not, necessarily, return to the same place the next year. It is how they have remained hidden from Muggles for so long."

Harry nodded. It took around another half-hour of searching before he finally heard it. Feminine voices that sung in a language he didn't recognize. He swam instinctively in their direction, as if drawn to the strange melody.

"Be careful, Harry," Dumbledore chided gently. "Mermaids' song is magical by nature. Those unused to hearing it are more susceptible to falling under its spell."

That snapped Harry back to reality. He slowed his pace.

"Like the Imperius Curse?" Harry asked.

"Similar, if not a few orders of magnitude weaker," Dumbledore replied. "For centuries, wizards had known about the enthralling qualities of a mermaid's voice. It did not take long before they decided to replicate that effect. The Imperius Curse is the final product of that line of research. But there is little need to worry, Harry. You've proven capable of resisting the Imperius Curse. The mermaid's song should not pose too much of an issue"

That idea was of little comfort to Harry. Still, he had come all this way. He wouldn't turn back now that he was so close. But something did occur to him.

"We got the idea from mermaids?" Harry asked amusingly. "All the blood purists must love that. One of their favorite spells was inspired by 'half-breeds.' "

"I find that we, as human-beings both Muggles and Wizards, often have selective memories. For instance, I had once spent so much time and effort spreading word of my brother's unhealthy obsession with goats that I started to believe them myself."

"So it was just a rumor then?"

"Well, not _just_ a rumor," Dumbledore replied. "You did not believe the Weasley twins were the only pranksters at Hogwarts, did you?

"A few skillfully cast Confundus Charms, a well-placed goat and a Butterbeer spiked with love potion and _voila_, my dear brother decides to announce his engagement to four-legged mammal in front of the entire student body. And after that fiasco, I think it safe to say that no one doubted my brother's fancies. Belief makes reality, Harry. Never forget that."

Harry smiled thoughtfully. It was true that he's looked up to as a hero in the magical world for something he didn't do. His mother had given her life to protect him. Yet despite his vocal protests, wizards and witches still believe that he had been born with superhuman abilities that shattered the Voldemort's power. He would be lying if he said he had not taken advantage of this belief from time to time. But he knew the truth of what happened on that Halloween night. No amount of false belief would change that. Would it?

"Over there by the coral." Dumbledore's voice broke Harry out of his thoughts. As he swam closer, he began to see bright dancing lights. At first, he thought they were some type of spell. But as he neared one in particular, he realized that they were fish. Their scales glowed like a bright flame. He watched it swim in a few circles around him and realized with a start that the water was no longer as cold. Harry idly wondered whether he could take a few of them home.

"Lekká ŭgæ noτturna?" a voice said behind him. Harry spun around. A young mermaid was floating several feet away giving him a wary look. He held up his hands.

"I…uh…come in peace?" Harry said lamely. Dumbledore chuckled in amusement earning him a glare.

"Lekká kelia un vaçile du přen," Dumbledore replied fluently.

"Eka..." The conversation continued for a few minutes in rapid fire Mermish, leaving Harry floating awkwardly between the two, very much in the proverbial dark. After a while, the mermaid nodded.

"Ah, excellent! We should follow her." Dumbledore said at last. "She will take us to the village chieftain."

"About time," Harry grumbled.

"You will also be pleased to know that he speaks English." Harry didn't look at him but could practically hear the slightly mocking smile on the old man's face and made a rude gesture. Dumbledore gave a slight laugh.

* * *

"A wizard was killed earlier today. I'm the Auror that has been assigned to investigate." Harry said. The Chieftain was a broad shouldered man that boasted abdominal muscles that even bodybuilders would be envious of. His eyes were a deep green, like the color of the sea, and his hair was a stormy gray. He introduced himself as Triton and though he was not unkind, his tone of voice made it clear that Harry was not welcomed.

"And you are here because you are of the belief that a merperson is responsible for this?" Triton said slowly with a tint of amusement coloring his voice, a fact that Harry did not miss. He felt his anger rise.

"This is not a laughing matter, Your Excellency." Harry said angrily.

"Forgive me young wizard, but as I'm sure you are aware, our fins are hardly suitable for walking on solid ground," Triton said patronizingly. "To suggest that we are capable of overpowering a land-dweller on the surface world, and a _wizard_ nonetheless, is an entertaining proposal."

"And yet here I am, hundreds of feet deep under the Great Lake," Harry replied. "Look, I don't care how _unlikely_ you think the possibility. It doesn't change the fact that I found evidence that led me here and it doesn't change the fact that evidence points to one of your people."

"And what is this evidence?" Triton asked skeptically. Harry took out the locket and held it in front of him. The chieftain was unimpressed.

"Is that trinket supposed to mean something to me?"

"Open it." Harry raised an eyebrow in challenge. "Maybe you will recognize it then."

Triton narrowed his eyes suspiciously before complying. A rich enchanting voice that was distinctly feminine began singing.

_Twinkle, Twinkle, falling star._

_How I wonder what you are._

_Are you an angel from the sky,_

_A girl who's just too timid and shy?_

Harry looked on. He had already heard the song earlier today. The locket was just like the golden dragon egg in fourth year. Mermaids couldn't sing out of the water. It was like a recording of some sort, not a weapon. There was no way on earth he would miss something so obvious. The song continued.

_When the blazing sun is gone, _

_When he nothing shines upon,_

_Then you show your little light,_

_Twinkle, twinkle, in delight…_

Even though Harry was listening to the lyrics for the second time that day, he still felt as confused as ever. More questions were starting to come to mind. For one thing, the song was Muggle nursery rhyme. It was unlikely that a magical race would have ever adopted it into their culture.

_When I'm falling deep asleep_

_From your home you choose to leap._

_Across the sky you streak so bright,_

_Won't you come down for the night?_

_Show me that your light is true,_

_Show me what your might can do._

_Twinkle, twinkle, falling star,_

_How you wonder what we are_

Harry had never heard this particular version of the rhyme before he got the locket. It read like a riddle and he half expected the stanza to end with "What am I?"

He watched the chieftain's expression intently. His face gave away nothing. But then Harry met his eyes and the merman's eyes flashed. The emotion passed by so quickly he almost missed it. But he recognized what he saw.

It was abject terror. He played on that.

"Who wrote it?" Harry demanded. "I doubt stargazing is one of your hobbies. What does it mean?"

The chieftain didn't respond.

Harry pressed. "Mermaids spend most of their time underwater. They won't come to the surface at night just to stare at the sky. "

Triton was silent for a moment. "There are many things about our race you do not understand. I think it's best that you take your leave, young wizard," he said quietly.

"But…"

"That was not a request." Triton's voice carried through the water like a tidal wave. Harry felt it resonating through him. The mermen guards around him started to hiss threateningly and raised their weapons.

Harry tensed. He debated for a split second on what to do. If chose to fight, he would be at a severe disadvantage. He was in unknown territory against an unknown. He had never seen a mermaid fight but he saw how fast they could swim.

"Do not return here, wizard." Triton continued. "I do not know what has transpired on the surface world to draw…_their _attention but…" Harry watched as the merman struggled to keep his composure. "But you would do well to cease your pursuit. Now leave. You have overstayed your welcome."

"Whose attention?" Harry asked. "Who are you…"

"DON'T!" Triton shouted frightfully. Harry jumped. "Do not ask! Just go!"

Harry hesitated but relented. "Fine. I'll leave. But I'm giving up Triton. And if I find out you were behind these killings…"

"I highly doubt you will live long enough if you continue your…quest" Triton said coldly. His body still trembling, though whether in fear or anger, Harry could not tell.

The Boy-Who-Lived gave Triton one last glare, then reached into his pocket for his portkey.

"_Activate._"

* * *

Gianna Zabini looked dispassionately at the slightly overweight suitor before her. She listened half-heartedly to his awkward attempts at conversation and sighed inwardly.

_How far we've fallen,_ Gianna thought wryly. A decade ago, she would not have given this _oaf_ of a man a second glance. She was once Britain's most beautiful witch, a woman who commanded the attention of every man in the room, from peasants to princes. Indeed, she had married seven such princes, each one more handsome than the last. It was a challenge she set for herself: to ensnare the heart of a man just a bit wealthier or a bit more influential. Each prince handpicked as the crème de la crème of the pureblood ranks.

_Or rather, they _were_ princes, _Gianna smirked to herself. Like a black widow devouring her mates, each and every one of her spouses met his end once she was assured a place in his will. They had, after all, outlived their usefulness.

It's been over ten years since she was last married though. She was long past due. She even picked out her next husband.

But then the war broke out and ever since then …well, it was best not to think on it.

She had a new life now, here in Italy. There was nothing for her back in Britain. But moving away also meant losing her status as heiress to seven ancient families. Here in Italy, she was "new money." And that meant starting at the bottom and working her way into powerful circles on the continent.

Gianna sighed. And so she found her plastering a fake smile for imbeciles barely worth her notice. She sighed again as the oaf burst into laughter at his own joke. Another long night, it would seem.

"Might I have this dance?" a voice cut in.

_Another one,_ Gianna thought dejectedly.

Gianna turned and almost gawked.

A man towering well above six feet in height stood imposingly behind her. His eyes were a striking blue and his hair a midnight black. He carried himself with a relaxed poise as a man at ease with his political status and power. A slight smirk graced his handsome expression.

The oaf sputtered indignantly.

"Now see here..." he began.

"That will be all, Gordon," Gianna said. "You have my address. Send me an owl. We can pick up our conversation another time. I promise." Here she smiled rather unconvincingly though "Gordon" didn't seem to notice.

Gianna watched as he obediently nodded before giving the new arrival a glare and walked away muttering angrily. The couple didn't pay him any further attention.

"Gianna Zabini." She offered her hand. The man accepted it and lightly brushed his lips over her knuckles.

"Tom," he replied. Gianna raised an eyebrow in amusement.

"Just Tom?" Gianna asked slyly.

"Just Tom," Tom said nonchalantly. He gestured to the dance floor. "Shall we?" Gianna smiled and nodded her ascent. She gave him another once over. Perhaps all is not lost.

"I believe I owe you a drink, Just Tom. Your assistance was appreciated," Gianna said as they began dancing.

"I do what I can, my lady. Besides, you appeared more stimulating that the usual rift-raft that attends these functions."

"Stimulating? Do I stimulate you, Just Tom?" Gianna asked, her voice layered with just a tint of magic. A trick she picked up long ago. She smiled as she fiddled lightly with the crystalline pendant hanging from her neck. She watched a slight haze pass in his eyes and nodded to herself in satisfaction. Distinctly aware of the jealous looks the women were giving her, she smiled seductively and started pouring magic into her aura. She was rewarded with an audible gulp from Tom.

Gianna smirked. Ordinary women just couldn't compete. It was almost unfair.

"I meant conversationally, my lady." Gianna smirked as she watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed nervously. She rested her ear against his chest against the soft material of his dress robes. Acromantuala silk. Oh yes. He will do.

"Is that so?" Gianna asked. She raised her head and brushed her lips against his ear. "I didn't." Her aura was in full force now and was starting to affect nearby couples.

"Oh…I um…" Tom cleared his throat nervously.

_He's nervous. How sweet._ Gianna thought. That just won't do. She needed him wanting. She discreetly slide her hand down his chest and teasingly caressed his member, making sure to put just enough magic into her fingers to elicit a reaction. And what a delicious reaction it was.

_A long night indeed, _Gianna thought pleasantly.

"Perhaps, we should continue this upstairs?" Gianna whispered.

"But the other guests…" He protested weakly. "They…"

"Can wait." She squeezed his hardening manhood to drive the point. He hissed and looked at her in unadulterated lust.

_Perfect._ Gianna grinned.

"I think you better put up silencing wards, love." Tom said huskily.

"No one will hear us darling."

* * *

Gianna felt his hands, warm and strong, caressing her breasts and her clit. She watched in the mirror as he worked his magic, molding her body to meet his whims. He pressed himself against her back. She was so close but forced her eyes to remain open to watch him. When she came, she finally let her eyes close and fully embraced the release. She let her body fall limp against him.

"Open your eyes, Gianna." Tom whispered next to her ear. "I want you to be awake for this."

She lazily obeyed.

And froze in horror. Looking back at her in the mirror was a living nightmare.. The hands that pleasured her were no longer lightly tanned but pale and spidery. The hair that she was running her fingers through just moments before was gone. A serpentine face and glowing red slits had replaced Tom's handsome features and was now glaring at her in the mirror.

"Hello, Gianna," Voldemort hissed. She instinctively reached for her wand but stopped as she felt the tip of a wand on her lower back.

"My dear! Is that anyway to greet an old friend?" Voldemort asked quietly.

"My...my lord…" Gianna stammered. "I can explain. I…" She felt the wand press harder into her back.

"Yes. Yes, I'm sure you can." Voldemort said. His hands, now cold and foreign, continued to danced slowly along her skin, sending involuntary shivers down her spine. "But I think you will find that whatever explanation you have prepared will not be sufficient. After all, what explanation could possibly excuse your absence at Hogwarts all those years ago? Hmm? When I had summoned every creature at my disposal…when I had called my every follower baring my mark to arms against the Ministry's forces…where were you, I wonder?"

She winced as his hand hovered over the Dark Mark on her forearm.

"And then there's…_this._" She forced herself to follow his gaze. He stared intently at the small, unassuming crystal that hung from her necklace. She shivered again still in shock over the sudden turn of events.

"Ah, so you do know what it is, then." Voldemort said. "Another black mark on your record, it would seem. Such a shame. I had rather hoped you were merely ignorant of your identity."

"Please, my lord." Gianna said in a shaky voice. "I can aid you. I will repay my debt to you. I…can compensate for my disloyalty."

She chanced a look at the Dark Lord and saw only saw a face devoid of emotion but eyes aglow with malice. She took the silence as a chance to continue.

"I…my inheritances. My husbands have left me vast fortunes. Even the goblins do not know its full extent. It's enough to make the Malfoys seem like paupers in comparison. Please, spare me and I will give it all to you."

"The debt that you owe me is a given, Gianna. That was never in question and I fully expected it to be repaid. But it is the extent of that debt that I disagree with and all the gold in the world will not satisfy my desired price." He pulled her hair roughly, his eyes never leaving the pendent. "A price that, I assure you, is quite steep."

Gianna began to shake again. "I beg you! I can't! It's too soon! The spell can't be…"

"That is unfortunate, because I, too, have a schedule, one that must be kept. You will just have to pray you are strong enough."

"Please..." Gianna whimpered.

"No, Gianna. I'm afraid that this is one case of truancy that will not be forgiven quite so easily." Without warning, Voldemort seized her arm. As soon as he made contact with the Mark, pain shot through her. She shouted in agony.

"And I'm afraid that the penalty…" Voldemort snarled. "The penalty will be far more severe than a simple detention." With that, he plunged his hand straight through her chest and into her beating heart. Three floors down in the Grand ballroom, no one heard her anguished cries.

**A/N: Please review. Updates will be slow. For those wondering, this will be a planned trilogy. This first book will deal with the Wizarding World War. The next two will be crossovers. Book 2 will have Harry moved to another dimension and is an Avengers Crossover. Book 3 will have Harry fast forwarded into the future and will be a Mass Effect crossover. Details will be forthcoming.  
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**A/N 2: Sorry for multiple updates. Formatting was a pain.  
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